What Was Erik Thinking?
by sweetdarkchild
Summary: Phantom of the Opera from Erik's POV. Sarts in the black-and-white of 1919, will progress to rest of the movie. PLEASE R&R!
1. Chapter 1

This is my attempt at a rewrite of POTO from Erik's POV. It's probably going to suck, but at least I tried! Please R&R

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of its characters. They belong to Andrew Loydd Webber, or something like that.**

Paris, 1919

I was hiding in the rafters of the old, decrepit opera house, watching the open auction take place. When I had first found out when it was to happen, I'd been furious. They were selling the precious relics from my opera house –within which I still lived! Because of my anger at their disrespect, I'd been more than prepared to play yet another prank on the poor idiots. But no –I had cured myself of that. As the pistol and three skulls were taken away to whatever buyer now had possession of them, the door opened and an old man in a wheelchair accompanied by a nurse and footman entered the room. He looked up to gaze around the lofty rafters, and my heart stopped when I saw his face: It was the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny! That…that bastard who had stolen my little… Christine (it still hurt to even think her name, after all these years, and she was dead!) from me, and he dared to enter my opera house again! But before I could let my rage take me over once more, I looked at the face of the Vicomte. It was lined and wrinkled, and I could see from the protective hovering of his nurse and footman that this man was not strong. He did not have a lifetime of scampering through the Populaire's rafters working towards his health. I decided to let him be. Once again I scanned the room, keeping half an eye on Raoul. There was another elderly person in the room, a woman this time. She, too, was watching Raoul, and when he glanced up to meet her eyes, shock passed through his body. I quickly changed the angle from which I was looking, and looked at her. My heart stopped again (this couldn't be good for me...), for it was little Meg Giry, the only daughter of Mme. Giry. After a brief moment of recognition for the both of them, all three of us turned out eyes back to the stage. Lot 665 was being brought out. As the young man showed the newest piece, I could tell that three hearts, not just mine, stuttered in their beats. "A figure of a monkey, in Persian robes," the pompous auctioneer had described it, "still in working order, ladies and gentlemen!" The little monkey sitting on the organ box began to play. The haunting tune spread out gently through the room, and I experienced rarely-felt tears pricking my eyes. So, too, I noticed, did Mme. Giry and Raoul. The song took me back, all the way through my childhood, as Meg and Raoul bid furiously for the box. Eventually Raoul got it for 30 francs. He held it in his lap, entranced, as the auctioneer moved on to 666. "A chandelier in pieces, with the new electric lighting" My breath quickened a bit as he moved to "reminisce" about "the curious affair of the Phantom of the Opera." My little romance, trajedy, and mystery. "Perhaps we can frighten away the ghosts, with a little illumination". With that, the sheet was pulled off the chandelier and the lights shorted into life. Men pulling on the pulley-ropes hauled the monstrous thing into the air. While it rose to it's rightful place at the top of the rounded ceiling, age seemed to disappear from the old opera house, the moldering seats turning to red velvet, the dusty statues becoming bright, and flames in the burnt-out stage lanterns once again burst to life. I could see that it took us all back... to that dress rehearsal of Hannibal, where it all started.

So, what did you think?? It came out a little shorter than I first intended, but I'm planning on working up the length of the chapters. Please R&R!  
SDC

XOXO


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second chapter to Erik's POV from Phantom. It's progressed from black&white to Technicolor. Please review!! Also, thanks to the lovely V. Cullen for encouraging me. This and my other POTO story may have ended up abandoned if she hadn't.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of the characters within. I've only made up Erik's thoughts, and what he does in his spare time.

* * *

Paris, 1870

Dress Rehearsal for the production of Hannibal

Dancers, chorus girls, and stage hands all bustled around each other in preparation for each of their respective parts. From where I was perched, I could hear La Carlotta singing her part horrendously. Hm. I would have to do something about that, preferably embarrassing, preferably soon. In front of many people. Loudly.

I pulled my mind away from devious plots to humiliate Carlotta, and turned my attention to the ballerinas. There were several of them, rehearsing the next number they had to do. Where was she?! She and her little friend, they seemed to always be just in the nick of time. I scanned the stairs leading down to stage level. I myself was stationed in a convenient little alcove just above backstage. It was a wonder no one had discovered it yet, it was so handy! From here I could watch the performance, survey the stagehands and actors/actresses rehearsing backstage, and I had convenient access to the ropes that controlled the stage backdrops.

Ha! There she was, my little Christine, and Meg. They jumped into line with the other ballerinas, and began to review the dance they were to do in a moment. Suddenly, there was a disturbance in the audience seats: it seemed M. Lefevre was introducing the new managers of the Populaire. Of course, I had known of his imminent retirement for several weeks, and who was going to be providing my salary from now on. From what little I had experienced of M. Aundre and M. Firmin was that they certainly meant well –who didn't? –but they were both fools. M. Aundre was a pompous fool who insisted that their previous profession of junk was, in fact, "scrap metal, actually", as he pointed out many times during the interview.

"Ladies, and gentlemen, for some weeks you have heard of my imminent retirement," M. Lefevre was telling his cast, "I can now tell you that these are all true, and I would like to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own this theatre. M. Aundre, and M. Firmin," Everyone applauded politely, and I could see several of the –how shall I put it– looser ballerinas eying them with wicked intentions. I held in my laughter with much difficulty as Carlotta came forward, heaving her chest, and bowing and simpering. Once M. Lefevre had introduced her, several of Carlotta's pet servants applauded, but the general cast was completely silent. Piangi received a somewhat warmer reception, as he was not nearly as snobbish or mean as Carlotta, but was still a bit haughty when it came to his rank as leading tenor. A rank I could fill much better, I thought, for dear Piangi's voice often broke at the beginning of songs, and Christine had often been left in open-mouthed silence during our lessons when I stopped to show her how something should be sung.

It was then that I saw him –the man who would be my curse, and who would take my only love from me. "May I present our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny!" Firmin declared, and he led the rest of the cast in a round of applause as a young man with longish hair, in the current style, came forward. At once I didn't like him. He had the air of one who was used to getting what he wanted, and quickly. Also, I heard Christine whisper, "It's Raoul," to Meg, going on to say, "I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts," I was furious. Christine actually knew this man, this stupid little fop who couldn't pull up his pants without a servant doing it for him?! And, it seemed, she liked him. Quite a bit, actually. My blood was boiling under my skin; Christine was mine! Had Raoul sung her to sleep when she was crying in bed after her Papa died? Had Raoul made the first contact apart from Mme. Giry in 15 years? Had Raoul taught her to use her voice?!

No matter. I would attend to this soon, but not at this instant. Carlotta had thrown a fit, a quite laughable one actually, as apparently, "you two, you get just as excited as the dancing girls as he did!", and was threatening to leave. Lefevre sent Firmin and Aundre after them to grovel, something he himself had done several times, for they thought they actually had something with Carlotta. I crept slowly closer to the stage as Carlotta sprayed some of her little perfume bottle into her mouth, and prepared to sing that "marvelous little aria for Elissa in Act 3". Suddenly, as Carlotta began to mangle "Think of Me" I had a splendid idea. Moving quickly yet silently, I unraveled the rope that held up the backdrop directly above Carlotta's head, at the same time placing the little welcome note I had written to Firmin and Aundre where it would fall at the slightest breeze. While Carlotta shrieked, I backed quickly into my alcove as Joseph Buquet came to wind up the ropes again. As he passed my letter, it fell to the ground directly at the feet of Mme. Giry. Perfect. I could trust her to deliver my message to the new managers, who I hoped would take it seriously, as I would become very angry if it were not complied with.

Carlotta left. As Maestro and the two managers tried to come up with a solution, I noticed Mme. Giry eying Christine. As Firmin began to throw his hands in the air in despair, Mme. Giry stepped in quickly. "Christine Daae could sing it, sir!" she was met with disbelief. I, on the other hand, was gloating inside. Good job, Mme! Excellent way to promote Christine! Now if they would let her sing...

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Yay! Finished the second chapter! I tried to space it out a little more... hoped it worked. And I got it longer! Yay! I'll try to update soon, but it might not work, because we're leaving on a road trip tomorrow and it'll be a little hard to get good internet access where we're going, yay, so much fun.

Review!

SDC

xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, here's the third chapter of Eric's POV. I'm sorry it's taking so long to update, like I said we're on a road trip and there's no internet access when we're driving, and we've been camping a lot. It should be another week before I can update regularly again, maybe longer. We're in Montana, and we're going to Oregon. You probably don't want to know all the details of the trip, so here is the third chapter:

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It took several minutes of convincing –with Mme. Giry insisting that Miss Daae had "been taking lessons from a great teacher, and has been well taught.", until the Msrs. Firmin and Aundre consented to let Christine sing "Think of Me" for them. I had just finished teaching that to her in our lessons, and was confident that she would impress both of the fools.

As Christine stepped forward somewhat hesitantly, I herd Firmin mutter, "Aundre, this is doing nothing for my nerves," and Aundre cut him off quickly, saying "Oh, hush, she's very pretty." I smirked down at them, realizing that for the first time I agreed with Carlotta about something: The two new managers _were_ quite excitable when it came to the subject of the ballet dancers. _You two are absolute _fools, I thought to myself. They, like so many of the other patrons and managers of my opera house, only saw the money that could be made from whichever singer, or dancer.

"From the beginning of the aria, then!" Msr. Reye said, and started conducting the accompaniment. Christine opened her mouth and began to sing,

_Think of me_

_think of me fondly_

_when we've said goodbye_

_remember me_

_once in a while, please promise me you'll try_

_when you find_

_that once again you long_

_to take your heart back and be free_

_if you ever find a moment_

_spare a thought for me_

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and suddenly I was below the orchestra pit, listening to Christine sing before a full house. _Yes, _I thought, _I'll speak to her tonight, first in the room where she prays for her father, then through the mirror of the prima donna room. _Little did I know that Raoul was sitting in the audience, and that he recognized her. I didn't know that tonight would be the beginning of my fall.

I was waiting in the rooftop room just above the tiny chapel of the opera house when Christine entered. As she lit the candles, I gave her a moments' peace, out of respect for Gustav Daae, and spoke to her,

_Brava_

_Brava_

_bravisima_

Christine had just begun to look up, an expression of joy and wonder on those perfect features, when I heard another voice calling to her. _Damn!_ I thought angrily_ why did that little pest Meg have to show up _now_?! _She always seemed to appear right when she wasn't needed! _There will be no speaking to her while Meg is here_. Christine always focused all her attention on her friends when they were there, something I did understand because, well, she could _see_ them, they weren't just a beautiful voice coming from the roof or the mirror. _You may as well leave_ I told myself, and I did.

***

Leaning against the wall of the hallway behind the two-way mirror, I watched Mme. Giry lead Christine into the prima donna room, shutting and locking the door against the hoards of fans. "You did very well my dear," she said, squeezing Christine's arm, and picked up the rose tied with a black ribbon that I had left on the nightstand, "he is pleased with you," _Yes. Yes I am._ I thought. It would be hard to be more pleased than I was then. Christine sat at the vanity and began removing her makeup. Suddenly, the door opened. The Vicomte, Raoul de Chagny stepped in. "Little Lottie, let her mind wander," _What?_ I thought, _What the bloody hell is he talking about?_ Who was Little Lottie? "Little Lottie thought, my founder of dolls, or of goblins or shoes"Christine looked up and smiled.

"Raoul!"

"Or of riddles or frocks,"

"Those picnics in the attic?"

"Or of chocolates"

"Father playing the violin"

"As we read to each dark stories of the north?" He came and knelt before her, taking both her hands in his own,

"No. What of the best, Lottie said, is when I'm asleep in my bed." she began to sing softly, "and the angel of music sings songs in my head" Raoul nodded, and finished the last line with her, "The angel of music sings songs in my head."

He moved forward and embraced her. I turned away, anger contorting my face. How dare he touch her! Christine was mine! I doubted he'd even remember her if she hadn't been the lead soprano tonight! I moved further down the hall, so that I couldn't hear them speaking to each other; it would make me too angry, and I still had yet to visit Christine tonight.

And chapter three comes to an end. Please review!

SDC

xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm so, so, so sorry it has taken me so long to update. 5 or so months is just ridiculous. Unfortunately, during that period I have apparently come to my senses, and I am no longer totally obsessed with Gerrik. Which is good. But the character of Erik is still the object of my favorite book(s). Thanks to the few reviewers I have, that last favorite I got finally made me come out of my stupor or whatever it was and finally post this. Are any of my readers in 8th grade? Then you all know how totally hard it is to comprehend when you've just come from 7th where they give you homework maybe twice a week. So, here is Chapter Four, at long, long last:**

At last, the stupid Vicomte left Christine's room, though with a disturbing parting message: I'll bring my carriage. Two minutes!" To her credit, Christine seemed frightened to disobey me, begging Raoul to wait, to not make her leave with him. I moved silently to the door behind Christine, locking it. Of course, I knew Mme. Giry saw me, but I trusted her not to tell. Not after what she'd done for me...

I blew out her candles. Seeing Christine look up from lacing her nightgown, and move to try to open the door, I made my second contact of the night, but this time chastising her and Raoul, but gently, sending most of my blame to him.

_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion_

_basking in you glory_

_Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor_

_sharing in my triumph_

Christine jumped, looking around for the source of my voice, _silly child,_ I thought, _You'd think that you would know who was speaking to you by now..._ She looked up, singing back to me remorsefully, begging me to forgive her. Then, something unexpected:

_Enter at last, master!_

Yes! Finally, she was asking me to show myself, not contenting herself with just hearing my voice! But no, take it slowly, don't force yourself on her... I sang softly, gently, throwing my voice to a spot above her head as I rushed to my mirror-door.

_Look at your face in the mirror_

_I am there, inside!_

Christine drifted forward, eyes wide, completely entranced.

_I am your angel of music_

_Come to your angel of music_

_I am your angel–_

I heard a voice at the door. Damn! It was that fool, the Vicomte! I sang louder, slowly opening the mirror-door slowly, stretching out my gloved hand. She reached –_yes, yes– _and placed her small hand in my black gloved one. **(I'm sorry, I love Emmy Rossum, but COME ONE!!!!! cow eyes... grrr...)**

We walked slowly down the passage, her hand still in mine, me checking over my shoulder every few moments, to be sure she was still following **(this part really freaks me out... what's up with the MOVING arms holding candles?? I mean, that's more than a little wacky...)**. I had begun leading her down the stairs when she began to sing, her beautiful voice seeming to caress me...

_The Phantom of the Opera is here_

_Inside my mind_

But no-! If she was singing, my control over her would definitely weaken, and I would risk losing her. Hurriedly, but still trying to keep my voice in the way that she knew would hypnotize her, I responded, urging her to forget her previous life, in light and the sun. And the Vicomte, Raoul.

We walked slowly, me leading her by the hand, to where I had my -er- not-completely-legally acquired horse waiting for her.

After several minutes of my walking the horse, still singing to keep her under the spell, we reached the boat. I began polling it down the small canal under the opera house, allowing her to exercise her voice, while interjecting my own every once in a while. Christine began to sing higher and higher, with me encouraging her all along, working up to the note she had been struggling on –the high "E".

"Sing, my angel!! Sing for me!!" Christine's voice rose above mine, striking the note with perfection. The candlesticks rose out of the water, igniting instantly, **(another weird part...**) and we reached the shore. I leaped out.

**Again, I'm so, so sorry it took so long to update, I really had no idea what to write at all, and now the chapter is finally finished and it's so short! I was watching Phantom on my sister's iPod, yes, I KNOW I'm obsessed, why else would I be writing this, and I got this inspiration. I'll try to make the next one better, I promise. Please review!! The numbers have been getting dangerously low... how about I say if I don't get at least three reviews for this chapter, I'm not updating till then. So, there. But thanks to the people who have been reviewing, however few you are. I love you all!!**

**XOXO**

**SDC**


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